


Ties that Bind

by BonestheGeek



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Amy Santiago Loves Jake Peralta, F/M, Headaches & Migraines, Jake Peralta Dislikes Rules, Jake Peralta Loves Amy Santiago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonestheGeek/pseuds/BonestheGeek
Summary: Twenty years ago, Jake did the stupidest thing he's ever done in his life, hands down, and he's been paying for it ever since.Two years ago, he met Amy Santiago.(He's supposed to tell her everything, but that's a little hard, given his current situation).
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Kudos: 15





	Ties that Bind

Six months into his relationship with Amy Santiago, Jake starts seriously considering Disclosure Licenses. 

This thing is the best relationship he's ever had. They push each other and make each other laugh and he swears, even knowing how impulsive he is, he loves no one more than he loves Amy Santiago. 

And here's the thing; even if they do break up (which, no, ain't gonna happen), Amy's the _sensible_ kind. She isn't going to go blasting the news at the top of her lungs from the nearest building. Having another officer in the know in the NYPD is probably a great thing for the Guild, actually, regardless of Jake's relationship with her. 

So, yeah, he breaks down and calls Iris. 

Iris sighs like she usually does when looking through Jake's paperwork. "Jake," she warns him. "This is going to be a hard sell. Reenan still _despises_ you." 

Even the mention of Reenan throws a shudder down Jake's back, but he buries it deep like he's been doing for the last twenty years. "Come on. _No_ one can resist Peralta for long!" 

"Don't even go there, I'm serious." Iris sighs even harder, staring down at all of the information Jake's faxed in. All of a sudden, Jake's heart drops. 

"It's been twenty _fucking_ years, Iris," he says, leaning his head against a wall. 

"I know," Iris says quietly. 

"I was _sixteen."_

"Jake, I _know._ It wasn't fair to you then and it isn't fair to you now. But Reenan still holds a grudge." She sighs. "Let's just...let's start with the clemency hearing, ok? No code in the Books would have you under a bind for twenty years based off of a stupid teen prank. If you're not under a full bind, a Disclosure License is a lot easier to get." 

Despite himself, tears well up at the corner of his eyes. "I hate this. I don't want to feel sick all the time. I don't want to have to hide everything from all of my friends. I just want to go _home._ " 

Iris paused. "Jake..." 

"To visit," Jake says quickly. He never considered a Guild career. Not even before the Incident. Not even before his Dad left. "I'm so sick of this."

Iris pauses for several moments. "I'll do what I can," she promises. 

(Unfortunately, Iris can't erase his stupid, idiotic past, so 'what she can' isn't a lot). 

* * *

They lose the case. 

Amy finds Jake curled up in the corner of his apartment, staring at the phone that Iris called him on. 

She asks him what's wrong, and instead of telling her, he cries on her shoulder instead. 

* * *

Honestly, he'd really just wanted to tell Amy. At least, that was his top priority. 

But the morning after they get the decision, he thinks about what will happen if they _never_ win that appeal. He imagines feeling detached, like he's missing a vital organ, for the rest of his life. It's been so long since they bound him that he's forgotten what it feels like to not have to work to breathe, to not feel like there's a weight on his chest. 

He thinks about waking up in the middle of the night with sharp headaches and flashes of things he'll never be able to interpret. He's used to the headaches, he had them Before, but the flashes make him feel like he always has an answer on the tip of his tongue that he just can't reach. 

He'll settle for a Disclosure License, for telling Amy. He'll settle for being honest with the woman he loves. 

(But if the thought of being bound forever crushes his lungs in, then no one needs to know). 

* * *

And then they lose the Disclosure License.

"I don't understand," Jake says, trying valiantly to keep his anger in check. "It's _Amy._ That woman doesn't have a single black mark on her record. She's a textbook approval case!" 

"It's not Amy," Iris admits, breathing heavily. "Jake, I...I'm so sorry. It's not Amy. They said they don't trust your judgment." 

He collapses onto his couch, suddenly out of breath.

"They..." he doesn't complete his sentence. He stares at the wall. 

They don't trust him. They'll never trust him. 

He's _stuck._

(Amy finds him that way hours later, staring at nothing.

He thinks she tries to say something, but he can't hear her over the blood screaming in his ears). 

* * *

Fine, he thinks, after spending enough time wallowing. 

This is actual bullshit. Everyone knows it. It's Reenan going on his power-hungry grudgefest and being the sole power in a room full of cowards. 

But Amy. Amy deserves the truth. 

It can't be that hard to break a bind, can it?

* * *

"Amy?" 

"Hmm?" 

She's half-asleep, in bed, where they're cuddling. If he wants to try, now's his best chance without copious amounts of pain. 

"I..." 

_PAINPAINELECTRICFIRETHROUGHHISHEADPAIN_

"Jake? Jake???" 

He comes back to himself jackknifed into a ball, breathless, sweaty, shaking. Amy has a phone in her hand, ready to call 9-1-1 if he doesn't improve. As it stands, he barely talks her down to calling him in to Holt, which is not embarrassing _at fucking all._

So maybe the full truth was a little much for the first try. 

* * *

He tries again. And again. And again. 

It's around the sixth or seventh time, when Amy sits him down for a serious conversation about seeing a neurologist, that he decides to switch tactics. 

* * *

"Ames?" 

They're sitting in front of a TV, watching Property Brothers like they do every Tuesday night after work. Jake's already sweating, his curse lying in wait like it knows what he's about to do. 

"What's up, Jake?" She asks, and he takes a breath to prepare himself.

"I...there's something I can't tell you." 

Even the modest breach of his bind is enough to send a headache blooming across his temples, but it's so much milder than his previous attempts. He's fine. He can handle this. 

After a beat, she pauses the TV and turns to him, looking serious. She must have picked up on his own tone. "What do you mean?" she asks, carefully. 

He swallows. _Take two,_ he thinks. His hands are starting to shake. "I have a secret," he says, his voice cracking. His hand goes up to massage his temple. "I can't tell you what it is." 

_Fuck,_ the pain is ramping up, but he's got time, he thinks. He's got a high pain tolerance, he's got time. 

Amy frowns. "I don't understand." 

He grits his teeth. He wishes, not for the first time, that what he knows is common knowledge and that he was never fucking _bound._ "I.." His breath hitches. "I.." He pitches his head forward into shaking hands. "I...want...to...tell...you...but...I...can't...AH!" 

Many things can be said about Amy Santiago, but she isn't slow on the uptake. Even when the uptake requires shattering amounts of belief in things that aren't supposed to exist. "Jake, Jake, it's ok, I get it, _please stop._ " 

Jake hisses in pain. "Can't..." 

She rubs his back as he collapses forward, shivering. "Sorry..." He pants, his breath coming in short spurts. 

He can't see Amy at all, only feel her pause a moment. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she says, quietly. "I don't know what's going on, but...I don't need to. Not if that's the price." She clears her throat. "I trust you." 

How ironic, that Amy trusts him, when the whole reason he's in this mess is because of a lack of trust. 

* * *

The guessing game is his idea. 

Amy tries to talk him out of it. 

"Seriously, Jake," she says, on a Saturday morning while they're in their pajamas. Her mouth's pinched inwards, her shoulders squeezed together. "I'll admit I'm curious, but it's not worth hurting you again." 

Jake squeezes her hand. "Babe," he says, his voice breaking. He already kind of has a headache. "I want you to know." 

She takes a breath, reading his desperation. "Ok," she says. "But the _minute..._ " 

He nods. "You'll be able to tell."

Amy lets out a short, high pitched hiss. "Well, that's not comforting at all." She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand again. "Ok, ok..." She swallows. She closes her eyes for a moment. "Do you have epilepsy?" 

He'd suspected she would go for the normal explanations first. "No," he says, confidently. 

_Lord,_ how high did they set the thermostat this morning?

She takes another deep breath. "Chronic headaches?" 

He looks her straight in the eye. Finally, he says, "Functionally, yeah. But that's not the answer you're looking for." 

He grits his teeth at the mild flash of pain, radiating all the way down to his jaw. 

"Jake," Amy says, her voice becoming strained and high. "Do we need to..." 

He shakes his head. "No. Keep going. I've got it." 

She must see something in his eyes, because she nods, focused. She continues. "Is it anything medical?" 

Not trusting himself to speak, he shakes his head again. "Keep...keep going..." He manages. 

Slowly, Amy nods. "Do you have panic attacks?" 

The pressure on his temples eases. He almost groans, both in relief or because _she's getting fucking colder._ "I mean, yes, you know this, but not what this is about." 

Amy doesn't ask a question for several moments. At first, he thinks that despite being the (second) best detective in the entirety of New York, she's not going to put the pieces together. But then she asks, in a quiet voice, "Jake? Is it...no, this is crazy..."

"Ames," he says, looking her straight in the eye. After a moment, he says, "Ask your question." 

She swallows. "Is it...magic? Or something?" 

He has just enough time before he answers to be absolutely and unequivocally _proud of the woman he loves._ He opens his mouth, ready to confirm...

And his head explodes. 

* * *

When his vision swims back into focus, he's looking at his wife's absolutely _terrified_ face from below.

He groans. He wants to congratulate her on the excellent solve, but even _thinking_ about it has his head splitting in two.

"We are _never_ doing that again," Amy tells him, her tone firm and tense. 

He manages something of a pained smile. 

"Never again, Peralta, _do you fucking understand me?"_

Never again, of course. At least she _knows,_ now, even if they can never discuss it again.

(After all, there's no reason to discuss it until Reenan fucks right off, and there's about as high a chance of _that_ happening as Holt suddenly breaking into a tap dance in the middle of the bullpen.)


End file.
